


When the Dominoes Fall

by RoswellSmokingWoman



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Canon-Typical Violence, Doctor Hannibal, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual mpreg, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Mpreg, Murder, Not Beta Read, Sigma Hannibal, Slow Burn, Teacher Will, Top Will Graham, We Die Like Men, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, dark!Will, sigma - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoswellSmokingWoman/pseuds/RoswellSmokingWoman
Summary: He slips into a comfortable, unsuspecting life.That is, until today.A new patient sitting across from him, avoiding eye contact.Curly brown hair.Blue eyes, bright and beautiful.Soft, thick lips.A sharp jawline he wishes he could pass his finger over.Never mind the aftershave; he’ll fix that later.Later… Will Graham is already his, in his mind.Will Graham.Hannibal internally chastises himself for the dallying glance; he shouldn’t pay too much mind to the attraction.__Or the one where Hannibal Lecter is a Sigma who can choose whether he is an Alpha or Omega. Once he meets Will Graham, a unique Alpha with something dark about him, Hannibal is instantaneously intrigued. He must resist the urge to choose Omega, having been an Alpha for decades. How long can he resist the temptation?
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Beverly Katz, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 90
Kudos: 279





	1. Nevermind the aftershave

Hannibal enjoys having a certain modicum of control. He prefers to be a refined specimen with his hair combed back and suits eye-catching. He wants the scent from his skin to perfume the air and exude dominance. It is how he lives, day after day, Alpha coursing through his veins.

But like all good things, Hannibal Lecter has something to hide. To many he would be a treasure, a rarity surpassing all others. It was once known, centuries ago, that in every generation of the Lecter line there is at least one Sigma. A Sigma, who has the choice of presenting Alpha or Omega. A Sigma, who is the perfect mate, because they can change their choice whenever they wish. Hannibal Lecter is a Sigma, but he chooses to be an Alpha. In the United States, no one knows what he is, and he is able to breathe a calm and still breath because of it. He is not sought after by rich Alphas who seek the most prized mate; he is not forced to choose Omega because of a dowry or contract. Hannibal enjoys his freedoms, never looking for a mate.

He had the occasional tryst, sometimes a drawn-out affair that he always severs after enough time passes. He needs neither, though, for he is satisfied with himself. He prefers the comfort of solitude and lives under the guise of extroversion. His truth is that he hides under a perfectly tailored mask and slips it off only in the comfort of his own home. No mate would ever be worthy of his true face. He grew comfortable with this realization only several years after he presented as a Sigma, and then didn’t think much of it from then on. No one ever caught his fancy, though he has had many admirers. He slips into a comfortable, unsuspecting life.

That is, until today.

A new patient sitting across from him, avoiding eye contact.

Curly brown hair.

Blue eyes, bright and beautiful.

Soft, thick lips.

A sharp jawline he wishes he could pass his finger over.

Never mind the aftershave; he’ll fix that later.

Later… Will Graham is already his, in his mind.

Will Graham.

Hannibal internally chastises himself for the dallying glance; he shouldn’t pay too much mind to the attraction. Attraction fades with time, Hannibal knows. He breathes in the scent of the Alpha sitting across from him, like thick woods in summertime and the smell of a stream after rainfall. Hidden deep underneath he can detect the slightest metallic twang of blood, fresh from the hunt. This Alpha is tempting, he cannot deny it.

“Hello, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal begins. “I understand Dr. Alana Bloom referred you to me.”

“I prefer Will,” he responds. “And yes. You come highly recommended.”

Hannibal nods, looking down at high notebook, the page not blank. His hand had already begun drawing Will’s face on the page, so he may look at it later and remember each crevice he imagines he would brush his lips over. “My methods are a bit unorthodox. Dr. Bloom hasn’t told me much about your particular case, other than the fact that she believes you suffer from severe empathy,” Hannibal smiles then. “Labels here are insignificant. I would like to begin with conversations.”

Will purses his lips, leaning back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t want a psychiatrist,” he responds flatly.

Rude. Quite rude, Hannibal notes. But it tickles him, nevertheless. “I am not forcing these sessions upon you, and you come only of your free will. This can be our last meeting, if you wish,” Hannibal assures, continuing his drawing. _It won’t be our last._ Hannibal thinks it to himself, the uncontrolled thought coming to the forefront of his mind. He wouldn’t want their story to end just yet; Hannibal begins the scenario in his head, their affair. He imagines himself on the brink of heat, slick running between his thighs—

_No._

Hannibal will not choose to be an omega. He feels his cock twitch, and he moves his notebook to cover himself. The arousal spreads through his body quickly, and he realizes that this patient would be inconvenient for him. He must think of Will as a patient.

Will is his patient.

Will is his.

He focuses on those three. How the words come so innocently.

“There was an incident at the University where I work, and I was advised to take a leave of absence. My employment is conditional on seeing you,” Will admits then.

“An incident?”

Will shifts in his seat, “It’s in the file that was sent over.”

Hannibal shakes his head, “Even so, I would prefer to get your version of events. If it’s too difficult to talk about now, we can start with something else. What is your position exactly?”

“Associate Professor of Psychology at Johns Hopkins,” Will tells him, leaning forward. “Psychologists make the worst patients, haven’t you heard?” Will laughs then, and the sound is unforgettable. Hannibal wonders if he could hear something more beautiful; his heart pounds.

“You know many of the traditional tricks. Like I said, my methods are unconventional.”

“I primarily teach in rare disorders of the mind and criminal behavior,” Will continues. “The university has wanted my mind studied for years, always waiting for an opportunity.”

“I will not study you. I have nothing to gain from publishing on you, except for perhaps some guilt for betraying your confidence, which I cannot allow. Only your interests and wellbeing are important here.” Hannibal walks over to his desk and signs a sheet of paper. “I’m deeming you fit to return to work, at whatever date you feel is appropriate.”

“You’re rubber stamping me?”

Hannibal hands Will the sheet of paper, his thumb brushing over Will’s. There is an immediate burst of electricity that runs through him; it almost startles Hannibal. “Like I said, this can be our last session if you wish. I will keep this time slot open, should you wish to come. We may just talk, as I think you’d like someone to talk to. I’m a unjudgmental ear, and I find that I quite like you. My office is always open to you, should you ever want to visit.”

“Do you enjoy fish, Dr. Lecter?” Will asks him then, unexpectedly.

“Of course,” he responds, taking a step back.

“Perhaps we can talk over dinner then, at this time next week. I can send you my address.”

Hannibal opens his mouth, then closes it, thinking. Will is not his patient. This would eliminate the possibility of a breech in doctor-patient relationship protocol. Will understands that he is an Alpha, Hannibal notes. He’s asking him to dinner regardless of the fact that they share the same secondary gender. A shudder runs down his spine; Will is interesting indeed. A unique specimen, worthy of his time. Hannibal feels a pull towards the unpredictable Alpha standing across from him.

“I would prefer it if we were to meet here,” Hannibal responds. “Ball’s in your court. Have a good evening, Will.”


	2. Attractive Idiot Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets a visit from Alana. Featuring the one and only Winston.

Winston stares at Will when he gets home, sitting on the floor as if he’s judging Will. Will sighs, placing a hand on Winston’s head. “He is an Alpha. Could you tell?”

Winston wags his tail and Will taps the couch, letting Winston take his place next to him. “And a psychiatrist. We’ll see how long it takes for him to find out something’s actually wrong with me… He rubber-stamped me today. For someone with so many books, he’s an idiot.”

Winston begins licking Will’s palm, “An attractive idiot Alpha.”

Will doesn’t know how to feel about it. Twenty seconds after walking into Hannibal’s office, he had been absolutely taken with the man. The pressed three-piece suit, hair combed not a single strand out of place, dark brown eyes… Will shifts in his seat as he feels the arousal straining his pants. He strokes himself carefully over his pants, imagining that strong long-fingered hand of the other man instead. He can almost feel Hannibal’s thin lips brush over his, a space the width of a single strand of hair between them. He wonders what Hannibal would taste like on his tongue; would he be able to get enough of him?

He was the first Alpha that ever made Will feel this way; not even Omegas could garner this reaction from him. And he had only ever seen omegas, perhaps a few betas in his youth. An Alpha never made his head turn, all of them competitors. But there was something about Hannibal, a kind of sensual radiance that emanated from the doctor.

****

Alana comes over several days later, forgoing her scent blockers. She’s done it several times, whenever she’s been around Will. She can’t help her subconscious commanding her to flaunt a little. Will was an attractive Alpha, perhaps a bit smaller than most, but he had a wiry strength about him. His sharp facial features and strong jaw lines only helped to convey his masculinity. It was these feelings, combined with her interest in Will’s mind, that caused her to refer Will to Hannibal. She doesn’t know how to proceed, with Will an unsuitable option as a mate for her, but the attraction unfading. She visits Will, anyway, hoping that time would guide her if nothing else.

Winston greets her at the door, his tail wagging. “Where’s my good boy,” she greets him.

She hears the faucet shutting off and footsteps approaching the door, “Alana?” Will’s voice calls out.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I should have called.”

“No, no it’s fine,” he stutters awkwardly, opening the door for her. “Come in.”

His house is a bit messier than before, a few shirts scattered over the sofa and several dirty dishes piled up in the sink. “You caught me just as I started cleaning. Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes.

It’s then that she notices Will is in a white t-shirt and boxers. Slick begins to form between her thighs, but she urges herself to think of anything else—like the fly fishing hooks on the table, something neutral. Will notices her discomfort and throws on a robe, tying it in the front.

“I’m going to see Hannibal again,” Will tells her.

Alana looks at him stunned, “I wasn’t expecting to here that from you. Not without a little bit of nudging, at least. How was the session?”

“Unusual,” Will offers. He can’t find another word to describe it. It was more like an awkward meet cute. He doesn’t tell Alana that Hannibal won’t be his psychiatrist. “I need to get back to work.”

“An Alpha physically assaulted you in the middle of class!” Alana protests. “You need some time off, some time to clear your head.” Alana comes over to him, placing a hand on his back soothingly. “And it gives you an opportunity to open up to someone.”

“I used to open up to you,” Will protests. “It was too much.”

“I have a professional curiosity about you,” Alana admits. “That’s in conflict with our relationship. Our friendship. I can’t be completely objective in either case. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hence, Hannibal,” Will concludes.

Alana nods, leaning in closer, pulling Will’s chin in so that their lips brush against each other. The kiss is soft and lingering, and she slowly deepens it. Will places his hand in her hair, pushing harder against her lips.

“Will,” she gasps as they part.

He smiles a small smile, looking at her. It would be easier, he tells himself, to go along with this. Perhaps their relationship would have ups and downs, with Alana conflicting about his mental state constantly. But Alana is an omega, and their relationship wouldn’t be harshly judged. But he can’t help the instinct that tells him that Alana doesn’t smell like old book pages and musk, nutmeg and vanilla. She smells instead of citrus and spring, but he doesn’t find the scent as alluring anymore. Will frowns then, taking a step back.

“I’m seeing someone,” he tells her. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Alana’s face falls, her heart panging with guilt. “I hadn’t known. I thought you didn’t date.”

“I wanted to date you for so long, but you avoided me.”

Alana nods. “I couldn’t decide. Maybe it’s better. I would constantly look at you through a professional lens, and it would muddle my perception of you. I would always be trying to find an explanation for—”

“For everything that I do. I know. And I wouldn’t have minded at first. But I do mind. I would mind, eventually.” Will brushes Alana’s hair behind her ear, and smiles at her. “You’re happy.”

“I just wanted an answer, a solution to how I was feeling. I have it now. There’s something good in that,” Alana confesses.

“Beverly is crazy for you,” Will tells her then. “She won’t tell you, but she walks through the psychology department even though the biology labs are on the other side of campus. Just to see you.”

Alana breathes in, thinking of the other woman. “I’d noticed.”

“I’d also noticed you wait all day to see her walking through the department.”

“Do you ever stop thinking, Will?” Alana teases.

“It’s part of my problem,” he jokes, pressing a kiss into her forehead.

“Who are you seeing?” Alana asks then, joining Winston on the couch.

“It’s new. Very new. I shouldn’t say, not right now,” he hesitates, going to the fridge to fish out a beer for Alana.

“Do I know them?” Alana asks then.

Will hands her the beer and sits on the chair across from the couch, sighing.

Alana smiles, watching him with sad eyes. She can’t help but be happy that he’d gone looking for someone, even if that someone isn’t her. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“It’s too early. Not worth talking about unless it turns into something else.”

Alana nods, changing the topic to recent developments at the university and their shared students.

****

The next day, Alana drives over to Hannibal’s home for their weekly dinner. It had been a longstanding tradition of theirs where they discuss recent publications over Hannibal’s newest culinary experiments. While she sits at Hannibal’s dinner table, she can’t help but think of Will.

“Is your mind captured by something else, Alana?” Hannibal asks as he sets his wine on the table.

She chews through her bite quickly, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want to put you in a difficult position,” she tells him.

“Nonsense,” Hannibal urges, pouring her more wine.

“Will told me he’s begun seeing you.”

Hannibal hesitates then, scanning her eyes for any hidden meaning but realizes she means her words in a strictly professional sense. “Yes. Our first session was insightful.”

“Is he doing alright? That’s all I want to know. He told me he’s begun seeing someone, and I just want to know that he’s stable.”

“I wasn’t aware that he had been seeing anyone. But I believe a relationship wouldn’t be bad for him; it might be good for him to have a support system outside of his colleagues. I can’t divulge much more, than that. I apologize.”

“No, no. I shouldn’t have asked. Thank you, though.” Alana picks up food with her fork, looking at the piece of beef she’s speared.

“What do you think of Will? He is your friend, after all.” Hannibal asks then, curious.

Alana blushes then, placing the food in her mouth in order to avoid the question for a moment. “He’s Will,” she decides to say. “That’ll make sense soon.”

They don’t discuss Will anymore, Hannibal only thinking of their next session. He feels a protective urge wash over him, one that sees Alana as a threat. He pushes that feeling away, finishing his glass of wine before pouring another.


	3. Children.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will on their date.

The days pass slowly until a full week passes and Will finds himself in front of Hannibal office, picnic basket in hand. It occurs to him that it’s strange, how Hannibal plays this game as if he wants to be courted. Hannibal created boundaries, not giving Will a completely clear indication that Hannibal desires him. It’s much like how an Omega would display interest in the early stages of a relationship. Will finds a kind of comfort in that realization, gripping he picnic basket tighter in his hand.

At the precise time for his appointment, Will knocks on the door. Hannibal answers it seconds later, opening the door to reveal a different outfit than what Will had been expecting. Instead of a suit, Hannibal is dressed in a sweater and pressed slacks. Hannibal looks softer like this, less intimidating.

“I’m glad you came,” Hannibal tells him, guiding Will into the door with a hand on the small of Will’s back.

The scent of Alpha hits his nose, but slightly sweeter this time. Will can’t help but dwell on Hannibal’s delicious scent, sad when Hannibal sits across from Will, creating a space between them. “Since the ball is in my court, I brought a picnic.”

“An indoor picnic?” Hannibal asks, crossing his legs.

“I brought my laptop; I thought we could watch a movie. Monty Python?” Will offers.

“That sounds lovely,” Hannibal breathes, going over to open up the picnic basket and spreading it open between the chairs. Will sets up his laptop in front of them while Hannibal takes out two covered plates and a bottle of wine with two glasses.

At first, they eat and watch the movie in silence, Will watching Hannibal to see his reactions. He loves the sound of the man’s laugh, the crooked teeth of his smile. Will brushes Hannibal’s hair away from his forehead when it falls over his eyes, taking Hannibal’s attention away from the movie.

“I’d rather hoped we’d do more talking,” Hannibal says then.

Will leans forward, pausing the movie. “You are not my psychiatrist,” Will reminds him.

Hannibal nods, “You’re paying more attention to me than the movie.”

“I’ve seen it multiple times. And maybe you have, too. You can learn a lot about a person from their reactions, their bodily movements.”

“Yours tell me that you’re nervous. This is new territory for you. You’re worried I will reject you or become unappealing to you over time.”

“Do you do that constantly?” Will asks him then.

“It’s difficult to shut off, but I can if that’s what you would like,” Hannibal takes the last bite of the fish on his plate, watching Will carefully.

“You’re not comfortable with this,” Will says then. “You want to be, but it’s strange. Two alphas.”

“It isn’t uncommon.” Hannibal decides to not tell him; he sees no need. If he’s to maintain his alpha status, Will need never know. Never mind the desire that nips at him, urging him to choose differently.

Will sighs, drinking his wine and staring at the bookshelves in front of them. He wonders how Hannibal could ever leave and go home, with so many books lying around. He realizes Hannibal must have many more at home—he wishes they were there, instead.

“I might be more of a difficult sell at work, for it. If this continues,” Will admits.

“You asked me to dinner.”

“Only because you wanted to ask me, but hesitated. I saw it in your eyes, the moment I walked in the room—you couldn’t wait to have me at your dinner table.” Will looks away then, not wanting to look at Hannibal. His eyes would be distracting, revealing too much. Will didn’t want to know then.

“Eyes reveal a lot. They can be difficult to look at sometimes. Is that why you won’t look at me, when we talk? Are you afraid you’ll find something you won’t like?”

“What is this Hannibal?”

“A date,” he replies simply. “One that I hope won’t be the last. Dinner at my home, next week?” Hannibal asks him then, leaning in and pressing a kiss on Will’s cheek.

Will places his head on Hannibal’s lap as they continue watching the movie, and all the while debating why Hannibal accepted when he knew what Will had done. Didn’t he believe that Will is dangerous? Hannibal senses the distress oozing off of Will and places a hand on his arm, stroking it tenderly.

“I kissed Alana Bloom,” Will tells him as the credits roll up on the screen.

“I see,” Hannibal replies, removing his hand from Will.

“It’s why I came. I kissed her and wished it was you,” Will says, looking up at Hannibal.

“Alana mentioned you were seeing someone at our dinner a few days ago,” Hannibal admits to Will then. “You didn’t tell her it was me? Don't worry. I wanted to speak with you, first. Are you pretending I’m your psychiatrist?”

“For the time being,” Will replies, grabbing Hannibal’s hand. “No one need know until after I get back to work?” he offers.

****

Hannibal is smitten; he doesn’t deny it. He wonders when Will would finally come out from behind the curtain to show him his true self. Hannibal knew, when he saw the file, that Will would be interesting. A unique combination of empathy and sensitivity to the world around him, Will is highly perceptive. It’s why when Will was provoked in the classroom, an Alpha attacking him out of perhaps jealousy, Will fought back. It was not the advised protocol for dealing with a skirmish in the classroom, which happen rarely nowadays.

The students left the room, the file said, but Will and the Alpha remained, Will wrestling to win control. Will bit down on his throat and pulled out a chuck of it, chewing on it as the Alpha lied on the floor screaming. Miraculously, the Alpha survived.

Hannibal knows, reading the about the scene, that Will had been so entangled in the Alpha’s mind, that he felt the very rage that the Alpha felt. It was this singular emotion that propelled Will to act, a reflection of what the Alpha wanted to do to him. This is the reason why charges aren’t pressed against Will, but against the student who had assaulted him mid lecture because his Omega had taken an interest in Will.

Hannibal thinks about this as he lays in bed, his hand wandering underneath his pajama pants. He grips his aching cock and begins to stroke it, imagining Will is on top of him, biting into his neck. What a strong mate Will would be—their children would dominate the world. Hannibal comes at this thought, a pool of semen on his soft abdomen. _Children_. The thought echoes in his mind.

He realizes that future is possible in only one way. He wonders if he should cancel the date, growing too close to Will. He tells himself, instead, that he can maintain enough distance so that they never get too close. They will never mate. They will never bond.

It’s these thoughts that keep Hannibal awake for the remainder of the night.


	4. Are you ghosting me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal doesn't answer Will's phone call or texts. An unexpected evening unfolds.

Hannibal wakes up drenched in sweat in the morning, the sheets sticking to his skin. He gasps for air when he opens his eyes, trembling. He can still feel Will’s mouth on his, pressing violent kisses to his lips. It’s like he’s being eaten alive, bit by bit, by the man.

When Will calls that morning, Hannibal lets it go to voicemail.

It’s not because he’s avoiding Will—

He could never.

He’s avoiding himself, that incessant thought that gnaws at him.

A single word repeated:

Omega.

Hannibal showers it off of his skin that morning, trying to get the sticky residue off of himself. But Hannibal can’t wash it off, no matter how much soap he lathers into his skin. The persistence of the word sticks to Hannibal, who uncomfortably gives up and leaves the shower, a panting and overheated mess. He is an alpha, he insists to himself.

****

His last patient leaves at seven that evening, leaving Hannibal at his desk to scrawl down the rest of his notes in his notebook. He’s careful in writing down every detail of the painfully over-attached Omega, Franklyn Froideveaux, who comes twice weekly to his office. The thought of Franklyn nervously touching his knee, just the barest of touches—a mere flirtation—nearly makes him retch, his stomach flipping inside of him.

The knock at the door brings Hannibal away from his memories and into the present of the empty room, its silence disrupted. He doesn’t expect anyone, yet in the back of his head, he hopes that it will be one particular person. One he shouldn’t hope for, not since he hadn’t returned his call.

“Hannibal?” Will’s voice calls out from behind the door.

Hannibal stands quickly, adjusting his suit. He opens the door slowly, a flat but welcoming expression on his face. “I hadn’t been expecting you,” he greets, “but you’re not unwelcome.”

“You hadn’t answered my phone call… Not my texts, either. Are you ghosting me?” Will asks with a laugh, maybe slightly teasing Hannibal. "I was quite worried. Alana mentioned that she hadn't heard from you in a while and I wondered if everything's alright. I feel a bit stupid now, for coming."

Hannibal wonders what would be the easiest response? Will is already getting attached to him, this much is apparent. Hannibal ponders if he wants that attachment; if he is willing to let Will slide into his world and crawl around in it.

Will watches Hannibal’s expression change, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. Will takes the moment to place a kiss on Hannibal’s lips. The kiss is comfortable and easy. Their lips naturally fit together in perfect alignment as if two halves had finally found each other. Will deepens it, drawing a growl from Hannibal. It’s then, in this closeness, that Will smells the faintest odor of Omega on Hannibal. His nostrils flare, a mad jealousy overtaking him.

“You smell of Omega,” Will tells him gruffly when they part, pushing Hannibal away.

Hannibal simply motions for Will to enter, his mind spinning from the kiss. No matter the conflict within Hannibal—he is sure of one thing: Will Graham will have a place in his life, no matter the circumstance.

“My previous patient is growing overly attached. I will have to refer him to a different psychiatrist,” Hannibal offers.

“Do you have a thing for your patients? Am I not the first one?” Will asks him then jokingly.

Hannibal places a hand on Will’s ass, slapping it lightly. “I am only ever a professional.”

“Why didn’t you respond?” Will asks then, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Even psychiatrists experience self-doubt.”

“Is something bothering you?” Will asks, motioning Hannibal to sit down.

“I see the tables have turned. Patient becomes psychiatrist.” A smile, almost naughty, spreads across Hannibal’s face. He crosses his legs as he sits, leaning forward in his chair. “Does that make you feel in control?”

“I’m concerned for you. You also never fully answered my question.” Will mirrors Hannibal, watching him intently.

“I seldom let people into my life. This is new territory for me. We’ve become close in a short period of time. It’s not unwanted.” The words seem appropriate to Hannibal, and true. He doesn’t say that he wants a relationship, but he doesn’t deny that he might end things with Will. The subtext should tell Will enough, he hopes. He wonders if Will would listen to the unsaid words. “Tit for tat?” Hannibal asks.

“I answer a question of yours, and you one of mine.”

Hannibal nods, accepting.

“I suppose it’s easier, asking than answering. Sitting in the other chair, it does offer a sense of control. But it’s not why I asked you. Your question is a diversion from the subject matter. We aren’t here to discuss me.”

“You would instead prefer to discuss both of us,” Hannibal concludes for Will. “There isn’t an us yet, is there?” Hannibal asks him.

“Two questions in a row. Quite bold of you—but that’s not how this works. Do you wish to end things at the first date? I would understand; I’m a mixed bag. You have little dirty secrets of mine in that folder; I know you’ve taken a peek. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like what you read.” Will leans back in the chair now, firmly gripping the arm rests with his hands. “Doctor?”

“I found the incident intriguing, to say in the least. Your empathy is so strong, you assumed the position of the attacker and counter-attacked in the manner he wished to attack you. You still have your position, no lawsuit. You came out unscathed. And yet, it troubles you. That’s not what bothers me.”

“I’ll answer your question then. I would greatly like for there to be an us. Perhaps it’s too early to put a label on it. But I think there’s something here. An attraction, however new. It doesn’t feel like a fleeting thing. One of those things I can't ignore, not easily. You?”

“I’m an immensely private man. I can’t deny that I’m… drawn to you.” Hannibal breathes in, the scent of Will catching his nose. He smells virile, strong, dangerous. It excites him to know his alpha is so powerful, so unique. _His alpha_. Hannibal is quite presumptuous. “Why do you feel conflict about the incident? It is not any fault of yours that you possess this empathy. Some may view it even as a gift.”

“One might say that one loose marble is all it takes, and the rest’ll follow. I don’t want to lose that marble.”

“You’re afraid that you’re losing it…” Hannibal utters, his voice low. “You aren’t insane, Will. Quite the opposite. You’re self-aware, which is a good sign.”

Will nods, looking at the floor. “So Hannibal, are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes, Will. We are.” Hannibal watches the smile spread across Will’s face, and it births a warmth inside of Hannibal, one that spreads like hot cocoa on a cold evening through his veins. He goes to his desk to pour them both some wine, no intention of letting this unexpected evening run short.


	5. Distinctly Omegan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly visits Will, Will and Hannibal have a date, and Alana makes a surprise appearance in Hannibal's home.

Will still feels Hannibal’s breath on his skin, his soft fingertips grazing over his jawline. The memory sends shivers down his spine. Hannibal can undo him with the barest of touches, like butterflies kissing his skin. It terrifies him, the spell that Hannibal’s cast over him. But he doesn’t fight it—he can’t. His powerless to those caramel eyes and decadent lips.

Will inhales deeply in the shower, closing his eyes. Hannibal had not allowed him more than kissing, touching. It was driving him insane. He wonders what Hannibal looks like under those three-piece suits. It doesn’t take long for Will to cum, squeezing his eyes shut tight and grunting out in almost satisfaction. Almost because it isn’t Hannibal who brings him to the brink.

He throws on his boxers and a white t-shirt at the sound of a knock on the door. He isn’t expecting anyone, per usual. The screen door creeks open as Will exits the bathroom, the scent of Alpha entering his home. It’s softer than most Alphas, like leather and warm spice. He smiles.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Beverly.”

“If I don’t visit every so often, you’ll become a shut-in.” Winston races up to her, wagging his tale eagerly. Beverly scratches at his soft ears, like velvet underneath her fingertips. “Good boy!”

“I’m going back Monday. To teach. It’s been two weeks. It’s enough time,” Will tells her, going to the kitchen to fill up a mug with water and throws it in the microwave.

“Are you sure?” she asks him nervously, walking away from Winston.

He nods, watching the mug spin around and around. “What else can I do?”

“Has… your psychiatrist okayed it?” She purses her lips, looking away from him. She doesn’t mean to insult Will, concern coating her voice thickly.

“I don’t need his okay. I only went to appease the board.” The microwaves dings, the water in the mug steaming hot. “Green tea?”

“Two sachets.” Beverly bites her lip, hesitantly going to the kitchen. “Alana tells me you’re seeing someone.” She pokes into his side. She knows she won’t go anywhere with Will, talking about the incident or therapy. She’s reached his limit.

“You and Alana are talking?” Will laughs.

“We always talked.”

He slides the tea over to her, raising his eyebrow.

“A gentle woman never kisses and tells. Besides, you’re avoiding the question.”

“It’s early.”

“That’s what Alana said. How long have you been seeing them?”

Will shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Come on! Is it a he or a she? Or maybe neither. Give me a name. Something!” Beverly bobs the tea sachets up and down impatiently.

“It’s an alpha,” Will mumbles, walking past Beverly to reach under the kitchen sink for whiskey. A clean glass is already next to the sink, and he pours himself two fingers worth. He’s testing the waters. He wants to know how people will react. Beverly accepts him. She understands him, at least a little. Maybe it is more of a respect, for another human. 

Beverly laughs, eyeing him carefully. “I’ve known you for ten years.”

“So what?”

“You don’t tell me everything.”

“Don’t need to. A little bit of privacy never hurt.” The whiskey slides down Will’s throat like fire, a thick alcohol flavor on his tongue. It’s cheap, cheaper than he usually buys. But it’ll do.

“I always assumed you only dated omegas.”

Will ponders the words, grunting, “I did.”

Beverly leans against the counter. “What happened?”

“I met him.”

“Him?” Tea still hot, Beverly takes a sip, glancing towards Will.

“I said too much.”

“You didn’t say enough.”

“Tell me how things are going with Alana.”

****

_With the door slightly ajar, Will enters the home unannounced._

_Inside, Hannibal intensely monitors the food on the stove, every movement precisely calculated and graceful. He doesn’t lift his head at first, carefully massaging meat underneath his fingertips._

_“You didn’t knock,” Hannibal says then._

_“The door was open.” Will walks behind Hannibal, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s waist. “I hope this is okay.”_

_“I find it strange that you describe yourself as nervous,” Hannibal notes, moving away from Will to take the meat from the board to the hot pan on the stove._

_“You bring out a kind of confidence in me… Sometimes.” Will looks at his empty hands. “I’m sorry I’m early. I left the wine in the car—let me go get it. I’m terrible at this.”_

With the image in Will’s head, he decides against walking into the home to early, gripping neck of the wine bottle in his hand. He’d left his home early in order to avoid traffic, traffic that was nonexistent at this time in the evening. He’s thirty minutes early, sitting in the driveway. He’s not quite sure what to do, if he should knock on the door, if he should go back to the store and buy a better bottle of wine than the one he’s picked.

A knock on his car window brings Will away from his thoughts, and he looks to his left to find Hannibal standing there, smiling. Will opens the door, sliding his legs out of the car.

“You needn’t wait outside,” Hannibal tells him.

“You heard the car parking?”

Hannibal nods.

“The second date is making me more nervous than the first.”

“There’s no need for you to be nervous.” Hannibal extends his hand, helping Will out of the car.

“The wine is for you. Italian, dry red.”

Hannibal inspects the bottle carefully. “It’ll pair nicely with dinner. I actually finished it a bit early. You’re timing is quite perfect, honestly.”

Hannibal’s home is an ornate behemoth, moody and well decorated. The scent of incense fills the air, Will notes. The home is brooding and beautiful, though Will notes that the home looks as if it’s been designed and maintained by someone distinctly Omegan.

Hannibal leads him to the dinner table, two plates adjacent to each other on the table. The first bite of food that meets Will’s lips is unexpectedly flavorful, the morsel of meat melting on his tongue. He lets out an involuntary moan, licking his lips. 

“You may have chosen the wrong profession.”

“Psychiatry allows me to help people. Cooking allows me to help myself. I find it quite relaxing.” Hannibal waves his fork in the air, trying to find words. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal.” Hannibal takes a long sip of his wine, watching Will.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were an omega,” Will jokes. “The cooking, the beautiful house. It’s all quite…”

“Omegan?” Hannibal finishes, a stirring starting in his stomach, a kind of discomfort that makes him feel nauseated. He puts his fork down, reaching for the glass of water to his left.

****

It’s the day after his dinner with Will that Alana comes to Hannibal’s home, unannounced. She isn’t usually so brazen, but she stands at his door standing akimbo.

“Hello, Alana,” Hannibal breathes coolly. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“We need to talk,” Alana blurts out, waiting for Hannibal to move away from the door so that she can come in.

“Wine or beer?”

“Neither. This is about Will Graham.”

They stand in the foyer, defiant omega and strong alpha across from each other. Alana doesn’t lower her gaze from Hannibal, which is a difficult feat for most omegas. Alana is not most omegas. She is too strong willed. This is perhaps why Hannibal has kept her as a friend for so long. He wonders if their friendship is still intact, the rudeness just dripping off of her like honey. It’s quite tempting, truly. But Will would be upset if his colleague were to go missing. Hannibal decides against it.

“Will Graham?”

“In the over a decade that I’ve known you, I’ve always known you to be professional.”

“I don’t enjoy being reprimanded without reason,” Hannibal smiles uncomfortably. “Why am I being unprofessional?”

“Will Graham is your patient!”

Hannibal purses his lips, watching her.

“He is not stable, Hannibal. You cannot in good conscience… Are you dating Will Graham?”

“Will refused my therapy,” Hannibal begins, closing his mouth and opening it again only to find himself lacking the words to use.

“So, you’re courting him? That is unacceptable.”

“Is this personal or professional?” Hannibal asks then, eyeing her carefully. “If it is personal, I would prefer to settle this as friends. If this is professional, Will Graham refused my therapy because he is attracted to me. That attraction is reciprocated. It is quite simple, really.”

“Will is lying then about seeing a therapist.” Alana places her hands on her head, huffing.

“I can arrange for him to see someone else… And the personal?”

“Why couldn’t you tell me? When I came to ask?”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything, unless Will wanted to. We’re getting to know each other. That’s all.”

Alana bites her lip hesitantly. “Does the offer for beer still stand?”

“Of course.”

Hannibal leads her into the kitchen, where they stand in silence as Alana takes the first few sips of her beer.

“I don’t mean to hurt you. If I have, I apologize,” Hannibal tells her, waiting for her reaction.

“You’re an Alpha. Who Will met just over two weeks ago.”

“Did Will tell you?”

Alana shakes her head. “He told a friend of mine… I put the pieces together.” The beer tastes hoppy and mysterious under her tongue. It has a distinct flavor to it, one she cannot place. “I’m sorry for barging in.”

“We all have moments of weakness.”

“I never expected for you to see an Alpha…”

“Neither had I, in all honesty.” Another pang hits Hannibal in the pit of his stomach, a distinct emptiness that nearly makes his eyes well up with tears. The more he thinks on Will, the harder the pang hits him. He wonders how long he will tolerate it.

“Alpha-Alpha pairs are rare, even in today’s social climate.”

“We aren’t a pair, yet.”

“Yet?”

Hannibal sighs. “I’m out of practice. Though I’ve grown fond of him, in a short time.” _Sigma_. The word screams at him. Hannibal had never been more aware of his secondary gender than in this moment, Alana standing there telling him how strange they are. How unexpected it is. Even if Hannibal couldn’t choose to be an Omega, he has the eerie feeling that perhaps he would have chosen Will, anyway. That Will’s gender doesn’t matter to Hannibal. Only Will matters. The realization is startling.

He wonders if Will would want to know his secret.

If Will would hate him for this secret.

But does he have to divulge?

Somehow, this little omittance of the truth is worse than a lie.


	6. Lilacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will returns to teaching. Jack Crawford makes his first appearance, prompted by a new Ripper murder.

It’s strange. The classroom. It has a heavy air to it now, almost oppressive. As if it’s telling Will to run out now; he does not belong here. It’s empty now, rows of grey seats staring back at him. He can still smell the faintest coppery scent of blood in the air. He inhales deeply, letting it fill his nostrils. He doesn’t deny that the smell is nearly intoxicating. Blood is life.

Slowly, his students begin filing in, their whispers filling the room. They act is if Will can’t hear them, their little comments about how they can’t believe he’d returned. That he hadn’t been fired. Several omegas stare at him dreamy eyed, while the others quiver in the back of the classroom. Attendance is low, today.

“The topic of today’s lecture is psychopathy. Or what people call psychopathy. If you look in your copies of DSM-5, you’ll see the clinician prefers to use the term antisocial personality disorder. The patients who display symptoms of this disorder are what the layman calls a psychopath or sociopath, depending on presentation and severity of symptoms.”

A student raises her hand in the background, “You mean like serial killers?”

While smirks, laughing, “Some. Many don’t kill at all. The need to kill doesn’t necessarily arise solely from antisocial personality disorder.”

“But it increases the likelihood?”

Will purses his lips, inhaling. “It is more likely that a given criminal suffers from antisocial personality disorder, rather than the other way around. They are not insane, as we’d like to commonly refer to them. Rather, they’re aware of their actions and the consequences of those actions. Their thought process, however, is much different than that of someone lacking the disorder. We will look at some case studies first, and then next lecture we’ll have a group discussion.”

****

Will puts the key into his office door, sighing. It had been a long day. His head is pounding. Two classes of eyes, ridiculing him. He wants to go home, or rather to Hannibal’s home, into his arms. He wants to breathe in the scent of alpha, strangely. He wants to feel protected and cared for. It’s something he should want to do, to protect and to care, but it’s something he can’t do right now.

“Dr. Graham,” a voice resounds behind him as Will opens the door just a crack.

Will turns, his jaw tight. “Yes?”

A tall alpha looks back at him, an energy like a tempest around him. “Jack Crawford,” he says, extending his hand to Will. “I’m from the federal bureau of investigation.”

“If this is concerning my former student, John Harding—”

Jack raises his eyebrow, “I’ve come for a different reason, actually. Are you familiar with the Chesapeake Ripper?”

Will inhales slowly, “I did my dissertation on the killer.”

“You claim he is the same man known as Il Mostro di Firenze in that dissertation. A claim no one else has been able to substantiate.”

Will nods, “I’ve earned a lot of criticism for this position, yes.”

“Do you still stand by it?”

“Always. Why are you here, exactly? I know it’s not to talk about a dissertation I wrote ten years ago.” Will opens the door of his classroom, motioning for Jack to follow him inside. “Perhaps it’s better if we sit?” Will takes a seat behind his desk, tapping the hard wood of it with his fingertips. Jack sits across him, feeling odd that he’s not behind the desk.

“I’ve heard through the grapevine about your unique abilities.”

“My empathy?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper has started another cycle. The scene is still fresh. We could use you. You could potentially save the next two victims, and more if we catch him this cycle.”

“I avoided the academy for a reason. My incident with Mr. Harding should show that I’m better in a settled environment.”

“You would only observe crime scenes. Analyze. You’d be another pair of eyes for us. The fact of the matter, Dr. Graham, is that we need you. I hope you’ll come to see that. I’m not leaving without an agreement that you’ll consult for us.”

Will removes a bottle of whiskey from his desk drawer and two glasses. He pours one each for them, without asking Jack if he would like any. He knows Jack would savor the drink, sees it in his eyes. Also, in his eyes is the truth—that Jack would never leave him alone. Not until this cycle is complete.

“I’ll help you see, then.”

****

The crime scene is strange. An omega male and alpha male are entangled in a field of magenta lilacs. Their perfume is strong, nearly overpowering. The men are nude, their genitalia covered by the flowers. Will doesn’t need to see their reproductive parts to know. Beyond the scent of, he can smell them, as if their scent glands had been removed and milked, and they were doused in the liquid.

The omega is worshipping the alpha, in the flowers, almost kneeling to him. His heart, taken out of his chest and placed in his hand, is being offered to the alpha. A testament. A pledge. Of everlasting love. Despite this, the intensity of the omega’s adoration, the omega is in ecstasy. The sheer act of ripping its own heart out and giving it to his alpha—it is everything.

“What do you see, Will?” Jack asks him, bringing Will’s attention away from the scene.

He runs his hands through his brown curls, the image of devotion appearing whenever he closes his eyes. “The magenta lilac symbolizes love and passion. This is different from the usual Ripper murders. The Ripper always attaches a message to his displays—they are often of ridicule. This is the Ripper, without a doubt. But he’s not ridiculing them. He’s begun a courtship. One he knows will ruin him, if he continues. But he can’t help himself. He’s falling hard. He’s clumsy with this one. He gave us something about him.”

“What would that be?”

“The killer you’re looking for is an omega.”

“There are no omega serial killers.”

“Because omega serial killers do not get caught. We allow them so much leeway in society, when it comes to criminal behavior. They are classically mistreated, but we think them to be incapable of terrible crimes. Omegas are seldom suspected, unless it involves the murder of their mate. But it isn’t impossible for an omega to be a serial killer.”

“The Ripper murders have all indicated that he is an alpha.”

“He was hiding. He showed you what he wanted you to see. And now, he’s revealed something else. Not purposefully. No. This was subconscious, as if his omegan nature is itching to crawl out, just for this specific alpha.”

“Who is he courting, then?”

“That would be the key. We find the mate, we might just find the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will returns to the artwork displayed before him, the intensity of the image flooding his mind. His heart pumps hard, swelling with love. He wonders if he could feel this way for Hannibal, some day. A part of him already does, though they’ve seen so little of each other. Even now, his heart aches for the man who is no doubt sitting in his office chair across from a patient, scribbling notes in a notebook. He wonders if Hannibal is thinking of him, too, now?


	7. It would be inconvenient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will rushes to see Hannibal after seeing the murder scene.

Will isn’t quite sure how he ends up in Hannibal’s home, if he’s being honest with himself. It’s as if he’s blacked out the past two hours of his life, manifesting from the crime scene to Baltimore, Maryland, in Hannibal lavishly decorate foyer. He hadn’t rung the doorbell, nor had he knocked. He smells the air, dissatisfied. He begins to scent Hannibal’s home, instinctively. Hannibal would smell him on every surface—it would be all he could smell for the coming days. Will hums in satisfaction at this thought, his heart racing.

“Hello?” Hannibal’s voice calls out. He’s wearing a bathrobe—deep, rich burgundy in color. It brings out the tan of his skin. Will notes that there are water droplets on his face and his hair is wet, still. “Will…” Hannibal breathes out, his pupils dilating.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Will chokes out. “I feel, I just feel so—”  
Hannibal takes Will into his arms, pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. “We can talk later. Come, you’re shivering. Have you been standing in the rain?”

“I don’t know.”  
Hannibal clicks his tongue at Will, mildly chastising him. “What am I to do with you?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper is back, Hannibal,” Will manages to choke out before collapsing in Hannibal’s arms suddenly.

****

Hannibal sets Will on the bed in the guest bedroom and stands above him for some time—he isn’t quite sure how long. He can’t take his eyes off of the sleeping man. He inhales deeply, eyes watering. He wonders what Will had meant when he said the Chesapeake Ripper has returned. Does he read those pesky little articles written by Freddie Lounds? Had he seen the tableau?

Hannibal’s isn’t certain what had driven him to create the scene, to bring back the Chesapeake Ripper from his slumber. He does know that Will is to blame, in part, for his recklessness. He’s revealed too much—the Omegan nature that lies within him, dormant, buried under the lilacs. It would set the FBI off of his trail, however, because Hannibal chooses to be an Alpha. Hannibal doesn’t know if this is true, anymore. With Will lying in the bed, he feels a stirring in his stomach. One that claws at him from within, like a desperate creature moaning and suffering.

Will stirs in the bed, groaning out. His eyes flutter open, eyelashes like the wings of butterflies, elegant and breathtaking. “Hannibal?”

“You passed out in the foyer. Are you feeling alright?” Hannibal places his hand over Will’s forehead, feeling that it is ever so slightly warm.

Will sits up from the bed with a sigh. “A man visited me from the FBI today, Jack Crawford. He asked me to consult for them on the Ripper murder.” He looks through Hannibal as if Hannibal is invisible, instead finding lilacs facing him, blossoming slowly. Their scent fills his nostrils. “All I can see is the Ripper,” he utters, hauntedly. “I don’t want to run away from him. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does he terrify you, Will?”

“No, not the Ripper. I want to keep looking, keep finding him.”

Hannibal sits next to Will on the bed and pulls Will close to him. “Tell me what you see of the Ripper.”

“He’s conflicted now. Falling for someone—perhaps a potential mate. It would be inconvenient for him, given his hobby. But he can’t help it. He wants him. This mate. The mate is an alpha. I think, I think the Ripper is an omega.”

Hannibal begin rubbing circles in Will’s temples. “Even the worst among us are capable of love,” Hannibal whispers.

“Maybe not in a way we would identify as love. The Ripper isn’t in love. He’s terrified that he’s on his way to it, however.” Will bites his lip, smiling at Hannibal. “You don’t have to do this, for me. I’m a wreck. I’m not sure why you haven’t rejected me, in all honesty. Given that you know what you know about me. It usually takes longer than a couple of week for me to come out and say it to someone. It usually sends people running.”

“I have no intention of running.”

“Beverly told me you’d talked to Alana.”

“I’ve settled my mind since talking to Alana, if that’s what you’re worried about?” Hannibal presses a kiss onto Will’s forehead. “Perhaps we should take things one step at a time?”

“I would like to court you, though. Normally.”

Hannibal’s smiles. “I will court you too, then.”

“Just as the Ripper is courting his potential mate.”

“Parallels find us in interesting ways.” The irony isn’t lost on Hannibal who smirks knowingly.

When Will leaves, hours later, Hannibal watches him walk to his car. His heat pumps in his chest as a shroud of infatuation, warm and fluttering, falls over him. He knows he’s too far gone now—now that he knows Will sees the Ripper. It makes Hannibal want to crawl out of his human skin and reveal the darker being inside. He wants to see Will’s eyes change as he views Hannibal for himself, how Will’s blue eyes would cloud with knowing. He waves Will goodbye, hoping for his quick return.

He knows, even then, that he would love Will one day.

He picks up his phone, dialing a familiar number. It’s been a while, perhaps even too long. He would have to bring her out of hiding. She couldn’t stay away, forever—and she’s all too aware.

“Hello, Bedelia.”

_“Hannibal…”_ she responds in a breathy voice, unemotional.

“I hope you’re doing well.”

_“Splendidly, considering.”_

“I am asking you to accept a referral, as a favor.”

_“I’d begun to think I’d go on without your call. A pity. I am the one who owes, you could say. I suppose you won’t be taking no for an answer.”_

“I couldn’t force you, Bedelia.”

_“No, of course not. Forward my number to this patient and I will set up meeting with him. I suppose… I’d become a chittering bird.”_

“A conduit of information. Thank you, Bedelia. I really do hope you are doing well.”


	8. This is not how an Alpha courts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will begin courting each other, just as the Chesapeake Ripper courts his potential mate.

_This is not how an Alpha courts_ , Hannibal thinks as he carries the breakfast out of his Bentley, nestling the beautifully decorated basked in the crook of his elbow. It’s entirely too homely, too delicate. He can smell the warmth of the breakfast wafting from the basket, filling his nostrils. Nevertheless, he fills with pride for what he’s produced. He can only hope that Will would enjoy the meal.

He pulls the screen door back, observing the rustic exterior of the home Will’s built for himself, in the middle of nowhere Wolf Trap, Virginia. It suits him, almost, this privacy, so far from the insanity of the crowd. Hannibal smiles as he thinks this, knocking on the door—truth be told, he doesn’t know if Will’s even home. He’s operating on pure instinct seasoned with a dash of hope.

The door opens slowly, Will peering out in his pale blue boxers and white undershirt. He laughs nervously, tucking his brown curls behind his ears. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’ve brought breakfast,” Hannibal says, taking a peek at the curve of Will’s bottom. A warmth spreads through him, feverish and wanting. “I hope you don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Truthfully, I was about to call you to see if you were free.” Will opens the door, letting Hannibal come in. “I should get dressed.”

“You don’t need to go through the trouble,” Hannibal slips, biting his tongue afterwards. It was nearly a reflex—a kind of politeness, but not quite.

“Are you being polite or something else, Doctor?” Will teases him, taking a few steps closer. “Maybe the breakfast can get cold?”

“It won’t be nearly as good,” Hannibal objects, licking his lips.

“But you look so enticing,” Will breathes, placing his lips over Hannibal’s. The kiss is electric, sending Hannibal somewhere entirely other—as if his body is transported out of this universe and into somewhere better. He’s floating. He moans, deep and throaty, a thought escaping from deep within his subconscious: _I’ll be a good Omega for you, Will._

The thought startles him, causing him to open his eyes and push Will away. “I’m sorry,” Hannibal breathes.

“Is it a problem—that we’re both—" Will stammers, taking a step back.

“No, I’m just…” Hannibal fishes for words, pressing his lips together. “Truthfully, it has been some time. Perhaps we can take things slower?”

“I don’t want to rush you. It’s my first time with an Alpha. I want it to be right. Let me put on my clothes and we’ll eat the breakfast you made us.”

Hannibal nods, turning to unpack the basket. “Hurry back.”

“I would never leave you waiting,” Will breathes huskily.

****

Will wonders what must be wrong with him, as he approaches the next crime scene. He had sent lilacs to Hannibal that morning—without much of a thought. It didn’t dawn upon him until later what those lilacs had meant, where he had found them not so long ago. He questions if Hannibal would remember the crime-scene he had described to him? And if so, would Hannibal be repulsed by Will and those lilacs?

“I’m glad you could make it,” Jack shouts over to Will accompanied by a stiff wave. “I hadn’t expected another murder so quickly. The Ripper, he likes to take his time.”

“Maybe he’s devolving,” Will whispers.

“We can only hope.”

The Alpha male crouches on his knees at the feet of the Omega male, looking up at him with what Will can only describe as adoration. The artistry hit Will immediately, his lips parting with a gasp. The pendulum swings in front of his eyes, back and forth, back and forth. He’s carried away, slowly, the team disappearing around him. Jack’s voice grows fainter until it’s gone completely.

He carries the Alpha male in his arms, a longing tugging at his heart as he places the Alpha at the feet of the Omega. This is _his_ Alpha, in his mind, worshipping. _I want to be worshipped_. Will thinks it to himself, but it’s not narcistic. It’s something else entire, a stinging loneliness that nips at him like a rabid dog. _I want to give myself to him, but can I?_

The Omega on the pedestal disappears, and Will sits in its place, the Alpha’s eyes drowning him with ardor. _I want to be drowned by him_. He’s suffocating, water pouring on him from above. It wipes the scene clean. The pendulum swings again, taking him back, back to Jack.

Jack’s eyes, like that of a hawk, wait for Will’s next words.

“Stephan Sinding, Adoration. It’s an imitation. The Ripper wants to give himself over to his mate, but doesn’t know if he can… This work is a seduction, almost. He’s going along with it. Even though he wants his mate, he’s unsure if he can have him. If I didn’t know better, I would say that this is for his mate.”

“The Ripper is courting his Alpha?”

“He knows his Alpha will see the tableaus.” Will is taken with the scene, wishing that the scene is a gift for him. He doesn’t know where this realization comes from, but it hits him strongly in the face. “I’m feeling overwhelmed. I need a moment.”

“Who is the Alpha?” Jack shouts as Will begins to leave.

“Someone on your team, a journalist, someone who has access. You’ll need to look there.”

He can feel the Ripper calling to him, Will realizes. He wants to peel back the scene and see his face, to hold him in his arms. He wonders what he would smell like and imagines how irresistible he must be. 

When he enters his car and sees the messages Hannibal left for him, the notification on his phone, his heart breaks for the man. He thinks Hannibal doesn’t deserve him, deserve his black and tainted mind. He sends him a short reply, sighing. Hannibal is too good for him.

“Would you let me see you?” Will asks out loud, hoping that wherever the Ripper might be, he could hear him.

****

“You’ve been distant,” Hannibal notes as they walk through the art gallery standing side by side.

“The job is taking a toll.”

“Perhaps some distance would be good.”

“The Ripper is an artist, making works that could rival any of the ones here,” Will finds himself confessing. “And in the throws of love, he’s creating his greatest works.”

Hannibal’s heart swells at the words, looking at Will’s profile. “Do you wish you would find them here, in this gallery?”

“I’m broken, Hannibal,” Will states flatly.

“There is no such thing as broken. You are wholly unique in your empathy,” Hannibal argues, taking Will’s hand. “Even death can be beautiful if you look at the correct angles. Who are we to judge the work of an artist?”

Will laughs, smiling. “And what if I see too much of the Ripper? Would you still believe that, then?”

“Always.” Hannibal knows he’s gone from looking at the fall from the cliff, to freefalling off of it waiting for his back to hit the turbulent waters underneath. When he looks at Will, who speaks to him so highly of the Chesapeake Ripper, he doesn’t regret stepping off the cliff’s edge.

_Mate._ The omega, hidden so carefully away, whispers to Hannibal.


	9. You wouldn't believe the taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has his first session with Bedelia.

The rage and disgust boil up to the surface within Will as he watches the squealing Beta beneath him, shrieking in the middle of the woods. It’s messy, he knows. Messier than he should be, not at all like the Ripper. With the knife in his hand, he takes the beta’s tongue and cuts it out, so he doesn’t listen to the screams. He shoves it in his left-hand pocket, hand shaking.

The beta begins to convulse beneath him, choking on the blood filling his mouth. “This is what you deserve, fucking pig,” Will finds himself spitting. He remembers the look of disgust on the beta’s face whenever Will had walked through the university halls, as if Will was unworthy of his position and tenure.

Over this man, Wil realizes that he is no longer Will, but is instead someone else entirely. The flame that burns within him is strong, violent. It scorches his insides, leaving his organs charred and his heart blackened. The sight of the beta beneath him, eyes filled with terror, only pleases him. He isn’t in the mindset to feel guilt now.

He slits the beta’s throat, watching his head tip back. The lifeless body beneath him no longer shrieks, but Will can hear the echoes of it still through the trees. The forest is silent now, Will breathing heavily.

When he looks at his arms, he sees the Ripper and not himself. He wonders if the Ripper would be proud of this achievement. It’s a pity he wouldn’t be able to display his kill; this is his first and he would need to reach a level of refinement before showing off. He couldn’t possibly court the Ripper with this disappointment.

He drags the body to his garage, hacking away at it until it turns into little pieces. The sound of metal against bone is drowned out by the barking of his dogs in the early morning hours. He only stops at the first sound of birds singing at the dawn, looking down to the unrecognizable pieces of the head of the university board, Thomas Kilpatrick, reduced to mincemeat.

He thinks of inviting Hannibal to dinner, then. He wonders if he’d find the meat delectable, knowing he’d turn Thomas in Andouille sausage. He would stew him long and slow in gumbo and serve him over rice. The Chesapeake Ripper would adore him for it, Will thinks.

****

Bedelia lets Will inside of her home, the air of it cold and still. He notes the scent of it, of roses and wine. Her home is tidy though unbearably monotone. He wonders however he could open himself up to the psychiatrist in a maddening setting such as this. Bedelia too had been a recommendation from Alana, after she had found out that Hannibal was no longer his psychiatrist.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Will.” Bedelia exhales slowly. She is a beautiful omega, tall and thin with blonde hair that cascades down her shoulders. He sees her as a threat immediately, picturing Hannibal’s reaction to seeing her delicate power. He knew, somehow, he would find her attractive. “I understand you came here on a referral.”

“Yes, from my friend Alana Bloom. Do you know her.”

Bedelia licks her lips, parting them ever so slightly with an intrigued gasp. She wonders how much she can exert her will into Hannibal’s game. She decides to play, putting her pieces on the board. “I’m afraid Hannibal Lecter was the one who asked me to take you on.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Will spits then, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Why don’t we sit down?” They sit across from each other then, Bedelia’s legs crossed. “Perhaps Hannibal had told your friend Alana to call me.”

“That doesn’t seem like him.”

“We are colleagues, and it’s my understanding he ended your patient-doctor relationship.”

“Had he told you anything else?” Will questions, laying his palms out in frustration.

“He prefers letting patients reveal themselves on their own terms. We all have a curtain we hide behind Hannibal knows this. He would also never force you to come out. You are free to share whatever you feel is appropriate.”

“I’m not sure I want to continue this session,” Will responds, leaning back into his chair. He knows he should leave, but he wants to see her response.

“You are free to go.” Bedelia leans back, looking to her right where the bottle of wine sits.

Will feels an aching in his chest, feeling that Hannibal has deceived him. Perhaps instead of being a potential mate, Hannibal is instead playing him—getting Will to seek help. He wonders why then would Hannibal not be his psychiatrist? Does he believe Will to be unstable?

Will thinks back to a few nights ago, the mincemeat in his freezer shed. The memory sends a thrill throughout him, but that quickly transforms into poignancy. He looks up at Bedelia, defeated, deciding to play along. He would deal with Hannibal, later.

“I have a problem with appetite,” Will begins.

“When did this begin?” Bedelia questions, reaching for her pen and paper.

“I was contacted to consult on the Chesapeake Ripper murders by the FBI. I assume you have my file?”

“Your sense of empathy is astounding, I’m aware. I’d like to here more about your appetite, however.”

“The Chesapeake Ripper is a unique animal that seeks its prey in an unpredictable manner.” Will begins to tremble. “I’ve come to realize he sees his victims as pigs, only fit for consumption.”

Bedelia smiles wickedly, pondering if Will knows how close to the Chesapeake Ripper he lies. This is only Hannibal’s first step, Bedelia believes. The next would be to send Will into madness. “That’s a tremendous realization.”

“Naturally, I see pigs wherever I walk. Some fat and ready for slaughter…” Will laughs, observing the room around him. “You wouldn’t believe the taste.”

Bedelia’s mouth parts, gasping. “What exactly is your relationship with Hannibal?”

“We’ve been seeing each other for nearly two months now. Taking things slowly. Are you worried I’d put the good doctor on a plate because he’s referred me to you? You shouldn’t. I have no interest in eating Hannibal.”

Disappointment builds in Bedelia, as if the cosmos had aligned to place not an enemy at Hannibal’s feet but a like-mind, someone who could truly understand and adore him. Her heart heaves in her chest, knowing she cannot continue to give Will sessions for fear of her own life, but knowing she must in order to satisfy her arrangement with Hannibal. “I trust you,” she assures him. “Does your perceived closeness with the Ripper interfere with your relationship with Hannibal?”

“I’ve had a fascination for years. I don’t want to be a copycat, no. It began as respect and understanding. Over time it’s flourished. Working with the FBI has given me a firsthand look at the beauty. It’s truly indescribable.” Will licks his lips, lust pooling in his stomach. “It is strange, that Hannibal took me away from him for a time. Even now, I don’t think I can let Hannibal go. I don’t deserve him, in a way. I believe he deserves someone better. I’ve found a partner in him.”

“He provides a picture of you that makes you think he understands you, and you do not want to be alone. It’s normal to fear loneliness. We value those who understand us.”

“I’m not sure how much Hannibal will understand if I reveal my proclivities. I trust you won’t report a word of this.”

“Our meetings are confidential,” Bedelia cedes. “I appreciate that you’ve trusted me to look past your veil, Will. It is difficult to reveal ourselves.”

“Why?”

“I like you. I respect your honesty.” 


	10. The Chesapeake Ripper is an artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will grapples with the knowledge that Hannibal had referred him to Bedelia while Hannibal does his own investigation into who exactly Will Graham is.

Lecturing has gotten better since Will started teaching again, though he can’t say how much his students are learning. Their eyes give too much information, like—you’re a bit small for an alpha, but you are so strong; I wonder what he must really be thinking talking about all those serial killers and their brains; Is he crazy..? ad nauseum. His student’s voices get tangled in his brain like tree vines in a sticky sludge on the forest floor. He would avoid their glances, but it’s become almost delicious to look into their eyes, to take a peek to see just who might be rude. He’s positively starving by the end of the day, and with no call from Jack, his stomach grumbles in dissatisfaction.

Even Alana, who normally pays so much attention, leaves him be for some time. She must be engrossed in her relationship with Beverly, in some heavenly bliss. They’re happy, he thinks, whenever he sees them together on campus from a distance, hand holding hand, glance meeting glance. They are in love. And what of he and Hannibal? Their relationship has stagnated, like a frozen flame, immovable but still burning hot. Hannibal’s reluctance at a physical relationship is worrying him, though his concern that Hannibal deserves someone more normal is the bigger issue. Will realizes it’s he who’s preventing the relationship from progressing.

But could Hannibal accept him? If he would ever find out what’s hidden in his freezer in Wolf Trap, Virginia, would Hannibal run from him in horror? With the psychological training and years of analyzing, there is no doubt that Hannibal would connect the pieces and find Will’s dirty little secret, his love for the Chesapeake Ripper. Nevertheless, Will wants Hannibal, inexplicably. Though he isn’t the Ripper, there’s some unique quality to him that makes him forget, for a moment, that anyone else could exist that would be capable of possessing his heart. Will knows that much. He twiddles his thumbs nervously under his desk, contemplating. Hannibal had also betrayed him, in referring him to Bedelia. That isn’t lost on him, despite the growing affection he has for Hannibal.

****

Bedelia had not been forthcoming with information on their session, dropping the occasional hint of what Will Graham is feeling, his mind overwhelmed by the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal can only speculate as to what this means, sitting in front of his laptop, searching. His fascination with Will Graham surpasses that of a mere fling, he realizes. The omega within him is rolled onto its back, soft and begging. He should be wiser than this, but he can’t resist finding out how this would unfold.

Hannibal clicks through pages, some brief biographies of Will Graham, before stumbling upon a pearl, _The Mind of the Ripper_ by Will Graham, his doctoral dissertation. Hannibal’s lips curl into a devious smile as he reaches into his desk, pulling out a bottle of oak barrel aged whiskey. He wants the taste of Will Graham on his lips as he reads his words, to be filled by him. _How does Will see me?_ Hannibal wonders, the fiery aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

“You never fail to surprise me,” Hannibal says to the empty room, leaning into his screen.

The pacing of Will’s writing is quick, frantic, as if he was in a trance as he wrote it, possessed by some higher being to exhume every word from the orifices of his empathic mind. Hannibal’s heartbeat quickens as he reads, a fevered heat catching him. 

_“My alpha,”_ his omega moans in pure pleasure from deep within, begging to crawl out from its hidden cage.

_The Chesapeake Ripper is an artist who paints not with a brush but with flesh. He finds beauty in a place many would find horror; it’s there that the Chesapeake Ripper lives and flourishes. If we are to look at him, and he is a man, secondary gender ambiguous though many would insist that he is an Alpha—of which I am skeptical… If we are to look at the Chesapeake Ripper through a lens which doesn’t appreciate the artistry of his work, we will fail to understand the machinations of his mind. And so, I will begin my analysis with the caveat that art goes unappreciated by many, for which I can only apologize on behalf of those who do not see._

****

Will’s doctoral dissertation is an ode to the Ripper, singing him praises. Hannibal had never felt the grips of love tug at his heart, not before this moment, he admits to himself. But he cannot deny it, that with every word he reads, he becomes more engrossed in the idea of him and Will, together. It would be unacceptable to refuse him, to keep him at an arm’s length.

There is no one else that could see him with such clarity, with such ardor, as Will does. He closes his laptop, realizing it’s late in the night and that he’s most likely drank too much… His thoughts are frenzied, urging him to pick up the phone and make a call. He dials the number incorrectly the first time. The second time is successful, the ringing of the phone going on for too long before Will picks up on the other end.

“Hannibal?” Will’s voice asks, groggy.

“I’m sorry to have woken you up,” Hannibal whispers into the phone, reaching for his tie and tugging. He slowly works his way to removing it, feeling far too hot.

“It’s no problem. Is something wrong?”

Hannibal bites his tongue, silent for a while to find a controlled response. “In the night hours, loneliness creeps in underneath the skin.”

“You miss me?” Will laughs. “I was beginning to think that your interest in me was fading.”

“Not at all, I simply wanted to give you space. Smothering causes undesirable results.”

“So does referring me to Bedelia,” Will finds himself spitting back. “Are you hiding something from me? Do I terrify you, Hannibal?”

“Quite the opposite, dear Will. I find you wholly enrapturing.”

“Then why?” Will demands.

“Alana approached me with concerns about the university board and your employment should they find out you are not seeing me. I trust Bedelia.”

“You aren’t sorry,” Will notes, hurt in his voice. 

“I don’t wish to lie to you. No, I don’t feel sorry. I knew you wouldn’t go if you knew before hand, that this referral came from me. I wanted for you to make the decision on your own, if you wanted sessions with Bedelia.” There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, Hannibal leaning back in his chair, unease creeping into his veins. “Will?”

“I need some time,” Will responds, hanging up the phone.

****

Will stands up from his bed, setting the phone down on the blanket before rushing to the kitchen to find the whiskey under his sink. The pain had settled in his heart and grown since his first session with Bedelia. It’s early in their relationship, he realizes, though he feels unhappy with Hannibal’s meddling in his mental health. It’s a sign, he thinks, that Hannibal wouldn’t accept the true Will Graham.

He unscrews the bottle carefully, thinking back to the easy days when he had just met Hannibal, taking a long swig from it and closing his eyes. They were carefree, even romantic. He had wanted a normal romance, back then. It quickly changed, once the Ripper entered his life again. And now, instead of a mate, Will finds a competitor for the Ripper. He lets out a growl, low and unbecoming, before he opts to down the rest of the bottle, perhaps four fingers worth of whiskey.


	11. This Chesapeake Ripper—I think I can help good Will see his face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham does not call Hannibal, much to Hannibal's distress. Hannibal finds himself unable to hold back any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly highly recommend listening to SYML-Hurt For Me as you read this chapter! Hope you enjoy. :)

A month without Will, no calls, no visits. The lack of company is sobering to Hannibal, who had always thought that Will would remain at his side. He had never considered a possibility where Will would walk away, Will who had been so taken with him since the beginning. Hannibal finds it to be a specific kind of torture that ravages his heart. He feels lost, perhaps for the first time in his life. He never needed someone before, never needed an alpha at his side. He realizes that his alpha status is no loner desirable, no longer protecting him in the way he needs. And still, the thought of being an omega shakes his bones, unease biting at him. 

The changes come without a decision from him, of their own accord. His need for Will Graham is too strong. His scent fades, first, from dominating and powerful to bland. The lack of scent lasts only a few days before a sweetness sticks to his skin, like vanilla and sugar cookies, a hearth, and molten chocolate. It shocks him, when he takes notice of himself, always so self-aware but without Will he had neglected himself, wearing a sweater and pajama pants at home and taking a break from his patients. He had convinced himself that he needed to mourn this loss, that Will wouldn’t call on him in the near future. Even Bedelia, who he had trusted would honor their arrangement, is not forthcoming with information on Will. Without this hold on him, Hannibal is helpless and lost.

This morning Hannibal finds himself in front of the mirror, for the first time in a month dressing himself in his usual attire. He notices the distinct softness over his layer of muscle, a layer of fat meant only for one thing—bearing children—which had not been there before. He presses a hand over his stomach, while still flat but no longer defined, and sighs. He buttons his pants, ever so slightly tighter on him, feeling strange. This body is not his, he asserts, but that of a baby making machine which he does not want to be.

Hannibal Lecter feels weak. Will had done this to him, and only Will alone could have.

It’s time, Hannibal reasons, for his life to resume. There was a time before Will Graham, before that endearing smile, before their verbal sparring, before the scent of home filled his nose whenever Will was near. But if Will doesn’t want him, he would not push. He and the Chesapeake Ripper are separate entities in Will’s mind, and Hannibal would not reveal his identity so freely. He does want Will to know, truly, but he wants Will to figure him out, to put the vague clues together and find Hannibal’s truth in a single, beautiful, earthshattering second. Any other way would fall flat, and Hannibal doesn’t want that.

And so, when Hannibal steps out of his home that day, his feet hit the ground not as an Alpha but as an Omega. He knows the scandal it would cause, the connections he would lose. How many dinner parties he would make in the wake of his new life. This thought alone gives him some happiness, though not enough to draw him out of his heartbreak.

A man sits in his waiting room, a face he hadn’t seen before. He removes his hat, holding it in front of himself with a smirk. “Hello, Dr. Lecter,” he reaches his hand out for a handshake. “My name is Jack Crawford.”

“Hello, Jack.” The name is familiar, Hannibal realizes as he takes Jack’s hand. Will works with him, Hannibal remembers. “I have a morning appointment, but hopefully we have enough time. Come into my office.”

Hannibal pours Jack a finger of whiskey in a glass once they are inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“An associate of mine, Alana Bloom, referred you to me. It seems we’re in need of a consultant. Have you heard of the Chesapeake Ripper?”  
A wry smile unfurls on Hannibal’s face, humming. He thinks of Will who’s already consulting, most likely coming up dry now that there hasn’t been a third tableau. Jack, an Alpha—almost disgustingly Alpha, with a kind of prejudice to him, a holier-than-thou air to him that Hannibal finds distasteful—observes Hannibal’s office with a confused look. He inhales the air, smelling omega, and realizing a disconnect. The room is dark, brooding, like the den of a hunter, though Hannibal has a softness about him.

“I’ve read some stories, and a few papers on his psychology out of curiosity, I will admit. Are you asking me to consult, Jack?”

“You are renown in your field for rehabilitation of deviant minds, are you not? I’ve read a paper of yours—Evolutionary Origins of Social Deviance. An illuminating read, truly. I would really love to have you on our team, as a consultant.”

Hannibal takes a step back leaning against his desk. This would be an opportunity to become close to Will again, he thinks to himself. It would provide them a platform to speak of the Ripper, where Will would not feel guilty to admit his darker thoughts. It would allow Hannibal to slither back into Will’s life, slowly but surely.

“There’s a hesitation in your voice,” Hannibal notes. “Is something on your mind, Jack?”

“I was told that you are an alpha.”

Hannibal clears his throat, “Does my being an omega cause a problem?”  
“We have another consultant, an alpha. I trust by your reputation that it won’t be a problem for you, however—”

“The omegas on your team are attracted to him,” Hannibal finishes, a pang of jealousy hitting him. “I assure you; it will not be an issue. I have worked with alphas for a long time, and I have remained unmated. I simply have no interest.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, truly. I really do need another set of eyes on my team. Will Graham—the other consultant—might need them too, I think.”

“Don’t worry, Jack, this Chesapeake Ripper—I think I can help good Will see his face.”

That night, Hannibal goes to sleep to dreams of Will Graham, wearing his plaid shirts and tan trousers, glasses perched on his nose. He wraps his arms around Hannibal, nuzzling his nose into Hannibal’s mating bite, a hand splayed across his distinctly round stomach.

_“You’re beautiful like this,” Will whispers to him, kissing Hannibal’s neck. “A little for us, you’re truly amazing Hann.”_

_“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” Hannibal admits, “For us, for you, my alpha.”_

Hannibal wakes, his body drenched in a thin layer of sweat, the next stage of his transformation pooling between his legs on the bed. Slick, hot and sticky stains his sheets. He kicks them away, huffing, rushing to the closet to change them. There’s pain as his organs make room for a womb, a nausea at the increase of reproductive hormones in his system. The changes cause a panic to build within him as he realizes his situation, without mate, without children, desperately desiring both so suddenly. The air is cold against his skin, the room too large now. He changes the sheets but doesn’t return to bed.

Instead, still clothed in his pajamas, he drives out to Wolf Trap, Virginia, a cloying heat sticking to his skin as he approaches the lone house in the middle of a vast field. The lights turn on as he parks far away from it; Will Graham darts out of the home as he chases after a dog. Will sniffs the air, noticing something different, but unable to find it. Hannibal’s car is obscured by the trees, and it is too dark for Will to see.

Hannibal places a hand over his stomach, stroking it lightly, noting the distinct emptiness within it. “My alpha,” he sobs out, waiting for Will to go back into the home. As the door shuts behind Will, Hannibal places the car into drive. The next time he would see Will, it would not be from afar, Hannibal tells himself.


	12. Let Me Explain

The scent of omega is potent in the air, even though there’s no omega in the room. Will can’t help but sniff the air, realizing the scent is coming from the hallway, far away from him. He’d never smelled a scent so intoxicating, so lovely. His heartbeat quickens, his inner alpha roaring out— _my omega._ Will bites his lips, controlling himself. Jack sits across from him blissfully unaware at Will’s aroused state, his thoughts captured wholly by the Ripper.

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Jacks’ instruction to come in. When the door flies open, the scent is thicker now, unavoidable. Will turns in his chair, gripping the handles, blinking several times at the sight of Hannibal Lecter in front of him. Hannibal takes his place next to Will without a blink, sitting down with elegance and placing his hands on his knees. Hannibal is changed, a bit softer, lovelier. The scent envelopes Will like a warm hug, and he never wants it to let go of him.

Thoughts race through his head on how this could be, how Hannibal had definitely been an alpha. Will bites his tongue, stopping the questions from erupting from his mouth. Instead, he hums to himself, inhaling thickly one last time before facing Jack. He couldn’t give Hannibal the satisfaction of seeing this affect him. He wishes he could convince himself that Hannibal had taken an omega, but Will knows this is untrue. From the way Hannibal sits in the chair, the curve of his back, the nostalgia defiantly welling up in his eyes—Will knows without a doubt that Hannibal is an omega. Will wonders if Hannibal had deceived him when they had dated. He was so careful about nighttime activities. They never progressed passed passionate kisses.

He clenches his jaw, gulping. “What this, Jack?”

“I’ve decided to bring another profiler onto the team,” he replies nonchalantly, smiling at Hannibal. Jack knew that Will would be averse to having another person on the team. It’s why he hadn’t brought the idea up to Will. While intelligent and talented, Will is difficult. “Hannibal is here to help.”

“I’m pleased to meet you Will,” Hannibal interjects warmly, extending his hand to Will.

Will reluctantly takes it into his own, shaking it limply, electricity forming on his fingertips. His hand buzzes with delight as he pulls it away. The sensation lasts only so long before it becomes cold, depressed at the loneliness. His mind tells him to claim Hannibal now, to kick Jack out of the room and have Hannibal on his desk.

“With the Ripper?” Will laughs bitterly. “Isn’t that nice. Can’t trust the profiler you’ve got, so you’ve hired another one.”

“I need ensure that he’ll be caught, Will. I’m doing what I can. I hope this won’t cause any issues, and that you’ll be able to work together.” Jack’s frown lets Will know that he has no choice in the matter.

The air is hard to breathe with Hannibal next to him, regret pooling in his stomach. Despite the betrayal, Will feels as if he’d done more wrong in leaving Hannibal—now that his sweet omega was sitting next to him. Pining. Aching. He wants to fill the hole he’d left there in leaving him. If Hannibal would have him.

“Alright. Call me when the next one surfaces. I’ll be leaving now.” Will stands to leave, waving a haphazard good-bye before rushing out of the room, Hannibal watching him as he leaves.

Hannibal turns to Jack, the alpha adjusting his tie. “He has better days,” Jack laughs. “He’s a good profiler.”

“No doubt. I believe Will has a great deal of empathy. He mirrors your actions, not on purpose, but as an impulse he has no control over. The same empathy is what allows him to enter the mind of the killer, to step in it for a moment and call it a home like any other. A gift, and a curse.”

“It’s a gift to me.”

“A gift to all the people he saves as well.” Hannibal licks his lips, pausing. “I’d like to accompany him on any case, Ripper or not. To test our compatibility as colleagues.”

“I’ll give you both a call as soon as something comes up. Thank you again, Hannibal.”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I think we’ll make quite the team.” A wry smile curl’s over Hannibal’s face before he stands, nodding a polite goodbye to Jack before leaving the room.

He isn’t surprised to find Will standing at the end of the hallway, back pressed against the wall. He rubs circles into his temples, swearing underneath his breath. The scent of omega invades his nostrils again, snapping his attention to Hannibal who’s walking towards him.

“We’re not doing this here,” Will spits, walking away.

Hannibal follows, his alpha’s displeasure making him whine out in pain. He shouldn’t feel such a strong attachment to Will; they aren’t bonded. He cannot change the fact that he is. He follows Will desperately. Will turns at the second whimper, stepping towards Hannibal. The anger is no longer strong enough to suppress his urges.

“Let me explain,” Hannibal begs, parting his pink lips. “Will.”

“My place or yours?”

“Mine is closer,” he offers. “We can take separate cars, if you’d like.”

****

Hannibal’s home is different than he remembers. In a way, it feels like his own home, though he’d never chosen a home this large or well decorated. The fact that Hannibal is there is enough for him. He wants to snap himself out of it, to return to his anger so that he could live alone, as he always had, with his several dogs and no serious romantic overture on the horizon. Hannibal’s changed the possibility now. Will cannot avoid him, cannot resist him. Hannibal would only have to say the words, that he still wants Will after their falling out, and Will would crumble.

Hannibal pours a glass of whiskey for him, plinking a few ice cubes into the glass. Will smiles knowing that Hannibal remembers his favorite drink. “Thank you.”

Hannibal takes his seat across from Will, leaning back into it with a sigh. “You must have a lot of questions,” he begins, extending his palms out towards Will.

“Mainly the one. The elephant in the room.”

“Sigma,” Hannibal coughs. “I am a Sigma.”

“There are three known Sigma in the world,” Will protests. “A secondary gender so rare. It’s more likely that you had taken suppressants and used an alpha cologne.” 

Hannibal sighed, eyes watering. The changes to his hormones made him more prone to emotional displays, especially in front of his chosen Alpha. “You know that it’s unlikely. Even the physical changes, whatever ones are apparent to you now, make it undeniable. I had always chosen to be an alpha.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“You left me.” The response is flat, simple. Hannibal doesn’t elaborate, unable to confess the depth of his adoration for Will. He feels that it’s too soon, though the affect he has on Will does not go unnoticed.

“So, you became an omega and sought out Jack Crawford to what? Lure me back in?” Will leans in, folding his hands in his lap. “No—Jack was happenstance. A happy coincidence. You couldn’t reject the opportunity, though. You didn’t tell him about our prior relationship. You’re ecstatic to have me back in the room.”

“I believe you once told me you don’t enjoy being psychoanalyzed.”

“I don’t.”

“Please extend to me the same courtesy, so that I can speak.” Hannibal only continues at Will’s nod. “Yes, I am happy to see you again. Am I so terrible for taking this opportunity? Forty-six years on this earth, thirty as an alpha—until you. Even when we were simply seeing each other, the temptation was so great. I wanted to tell you, every day.”

“You didn’t.” Will stands, walking around the room. “You knew my struggle with being so attracted to you as an Alpha. And you knew I cared for you all the same. You kept your secret. You sent me to Bedelia.”

“I apologize for both. For any pain that I’ve caused you.”

“Why me, Hannibal?” Will fires back, turning around, staring at Hannibal with broken eyes. “Of all people?”

“You are unique. I look at you and see the universe held in your eyes. Maybe I’m greedy for wanting to hold it in my arms. But I have to try. The moment I saw you, I had wanted to be an omega. Despite the disadvantages. Despite the ridicule I would face. It was a difficult choice to make. Losing you was sobering. Would you forgive me?”

“Forgiveness comes easily. It’s an unconscious choice. What we do afterwards, that’s trickier.”

“You’ve chosen to avoid me purposefully.” Hannibal stands, setting his wine glass on the table before approaching Will. “I could let you go if that’s what you want. If it’s what you need.”

Will bites his lip, starring into the brown chasm of Hannibal’s eyes. He wades in their waters, letting Hannibal’s emotions consume him. He is wrapped in the thick blanket of Hannibal’s love—Will knows it is there, clawing to come to the surface, to be spoken. His omega wants him, he realizes. Will leans in, pressing his forehead against Hannibal’s.

In this moment, he forgets the Chesapeake Ripper, the blood which consumes his every waking thought. Instead, Hannibal grabs a hold of him, letting him see something purely beautiful. He pulls Hannibal to him, holding him, listening to Hannibal’s soft purr. It’s involuntary, but Will relishes it all the same. He caused the sound to come from Hannibal’s throat.

“I don’t think I can let you go,” Will confesses. “Not now that I have you.”

Hannibal smiles, an ache forming between his thighs, a pre-heat frenzy addling his brain. He would let Will claim him soon, tempt Will into sinking his teeth into his neck. He would have his lover in his hands, his mind malleable. He could be the Ripper with him, Hannibal reasons. When the time is right, he would let Will know.


	13. Games

The topic of pups comes up two days before Hannibal’s heat, and it startles Will. He hadn’t expected that Hannibal at forty-six years old would want to have children. But he does. The need is like a bellyache that can’t be cured. And when the topic does arise it comes with liquid mercury pain pooling up in Hannibal’s eyes, it’s all Will can ever see after that. A ferocious need the gnaws and maws—it drives Will mad.

_“You want children?” Will asks, watching Hannibal sitting across from him at the dinner table._

_“My heat is coming up in a matter of days,” Hannibal speaks, frankly. “I thought we should broach the subject now. Most likely it will be a barren heat, though not without chances. Sigmas are notably fertile.”_

_“We haven’t been together long,” is all Will says, watching as Hannibal smiles softly._

_It’s a pained smile, the kind that doesn’t grace Hannibal’s face often. No other words are needed to tell Will what he needs to know. It is a nearly non-negotiable term for their relationship. Will knows that a child would be better off without him as a parent. But he does crave to hold it, to guide it despite the nagging in the back of his mind that reminds him he would want to hand it to whoever else. With the work he does now for the FBI, and the hobbies he’s gained—it would be better to have no children, right?_

Bedelia is curious, of course, when he steps into her home, Alpha pheromones stinking up the room with frustration and the need to breed—a strange combination. Frustration on Will is an acrid smell that curls Bedelia’s nose.

“I hadn’t expected you would want to resume therapy,” Bedelia tells Will, offering him a glass of wine with a nod.

He refuses politely. “Circumstances change.”

“You wish you could step out from behind the curtain,” Bedelia notes, smiling wearily at Will.

Will refuses to take his seat, staring instead at the expanse of the room. He realizes he prefers Hannibal’s therapy room to Bedelia’s. He would have roamed the bookshelves for hours instead of undergoing therapy there. Bedelia offers no such escapes. She is straightforward with her priorities. She is the doctor. He is the patient.

“What curtain?” he asks.

“The barrier between the Will you show to others—a construction—and the Will you truly identify with. Something’s come up that’s challenged your priorities. It’s unexpected.” Bedelia is strangely like him, harboring insight most would despise. But Bedelia isn’t always right. She throws darts at a board hoping most will hit center. Sometimes they don’t. It hurts Will when they do.

“It’s unavoidable,” Will counters.

“Self-imposed or truly?”

“A bit of both,” Will says, turning around to look at her.

She’s a twig in the chair, breakable. Will could take her by the neck and snap it with ease. But there’s not much meat on those bones to be had, no fat to baste the roast while cooking. She doesn’t deserve that fate, not quite—not yet. Perhaps one day.

“The most difficult to deal with then. Would you tell me, or would you prefer it if I guess?” she asks.

“Hannibal wants children,” Will seethes, brushing his palms over his face.

“I was under the impression you and Hannibal weren’t together, anymore,” Bedelia replies, shifting in her seat.

“So you do talk.” A smile spreads across his face, aggressive and toothy.

“As friends,” she assures.

“About me?”

“Not about your little secret, or anything else that goes on in these walls. He mentioned it in passing weeks ago. I didn’t pry. You are together again, then? Given your distinct habits, children may be cumbersome.”

“I wouldn’t eat them,” Will counters. “That’s not what the Chesapeake Ripper does. He has a taste for a very specific kind of swine, and even if he did—I wouldn’t be able to.”

“You feel so attached to the Chesapeake Ripper, that you fear it may hinder your ability to form relationships—with Hannibal or any potential children you may have. I wouldn’t advise you to have pups, Will. On principle."

“Which is why I was very clear in my wording. Hannibal wants children.”

“And you? Have you given it much thought?”

“Not until yesterday. Hannibal’s heat is due soon. I have no doubt that he’s already divulged his secret to you.”

“You’re tempted. It’s why you won’t give me a direct answer. Avoidance causes a specific kind of destruction. Slow, crumbling. You will have to decide soon.”

“I’m afraid Hannibal won’t like my decision.”

“Now or in the future?”

“Who’s to say?” Will finishes, leaving Bedelia in the room. He can’t bear another second of questioning. Bedelia won’t tell him a word of what he doesn’t already know. A bouncing board and verbal sparring, however—he’s grown tired of. He could do without the clusterfuck of metaphors, though. The unwarranted opinions… Will realizes his mind’s gotten him off track. Directing his anger at Bedelia isn’t getting him anywhere.

He knows the answer to his situation. He doesn’t like it.

****

Hannibal calls Bedelia shortly after Will’s session should end. The phone rings for a long time, Bedelia no doubt debating whether or not she should pick up. When she finally does, she greets Hannibal coldly.

“You’re a family man, I hear,” she breathes into the phone.

“Is that so surprising?” Hannibal asks, lips curling into a smile as he breathes into the phone.

“I was hoping you would know better than to breed. Any children from you and Will… I just wonder how much of one’s personality is due to genetics and how much is due to environment. Neither seems to work in your favor, Hannibal.”

“I’d never wanted a family before, before Will.”

“You are aware of his curiosity for the Ripper, but you don’t tell him. Why?”

“Out of curiosity for Will,” Hannibal answers honestly.

“I would suggest you stop playing these games with Will Graham, before any mistakes are made.”

“I wouldn’t call him or her a mistake, Bedelia. How rude,” Hannibal jokes.

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” she responds before ending the call.

Despite not intending to, Bedelia had answered the one question Hannibal had. It might not be this heat, or the next, but soon Will won’t be able to deny himself any longer. He will want children, too. Hannibal will wait if he has to.

He’s happy to know that Will had chosen to resume therapy with Bedelia, despite their brief falling out over it. He notes, humming Bach as he steps into the kitchen, that Will knows Hannibal and Bedelia are close. Will must suspect there is some communication. The game isn’t one-sided, and that’s just how Hannibal likes to play.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @malipomfrit


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